


last true mouthpiece

by pettigrace



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Still a Witcher, M/M, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Oblivious Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Pining, Social Media, Unrequited Love, YouTube, help the author has made themselves develop feelings about Geralt of Rivia, or is it???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22895428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettigrace/pseuds/pettigrace
Summary: When Jaskier finds a Witcher tucked away in the corner of a pub, he knows it'll make great content for his YouTube channel.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 43
Kudos: 338





	1. I TALKED TO A WITCHER! And Survived?!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!! 
> 
> I can't even believe that I wrote this because I watched The Witcher last week - only started because of Henry Cavill and our collective favourite bard, and now here we are. This is a **Modern AU** that still has monsters and Witchers, obviously, but also YouTube! Basically I thought, what if, instead of writing songs, **Jaskier did vlogs**? And this happened.
> 
> The first half of this is basically just a **Canon Rewrite** with a few tweaks and changes. As such, Yennefer does appear, but only plays a minor role, and the whole Ciri plot gets abandoned. (Sorry, princess). **Afterwards, I went on freestyling**. I also don't know any other form of media for The Witcher, so this is solely based on what I got from the TV show.
> 
> The title is from Hozier's "Take Me To Church", in case you haven't guessed it.
> 
> And for now, I wish you lots of fun! I surely had it while writing.

_“—you know, I am but a simple guy with no self-preservation skills, so when I heard a Witcher was in the bar, I had to go up to him. And thank fuck that I did! The poor lad was brooding away in a corner, waiting for some quality entertainment, I tell you—“_

-

Truth be told, Jaskier hadn’t actually known that tall-broody-and-handsome trucked away in the darkest corner of the pub had been the Witcher he’s heard whispers about the entire night. If he had, his saying hello would have gone a completely different way, that’s for sure. Since 5 o’clock had he wandered from patron to patron - it’s a Saturday night, so any location possessing more than one bottle of some good vodka was flooded early - in the hopes of encountering a funny story (or causing one, he isn’t picky) that he could pass on. He’d done so a few times already - the passing on, that is -, more by accident then planned when he’d needed to rant about something. It had been nonsense, honestly, but apparently a few people had been engulfed in his ‘funny way of talking’. Now, Jaskier is quite aware that he has a penchant for being dramatic, but this hadn’t even occurred to him before: A storyteller! Him!

Of course, he’d need a story worth telling first. Jaskier may have a way with words, that’s true, but it doesn’t guarantee that he has _ideas_. They’re too extravagant, too simple, too boring, too specific - they always feel fabricated, and that’s because they _are_. Jaskier’s own life is about as exciting as a single leaf falling down in autumn, so it really does only leave him with two options: fantasy or other people. 

Now, when the many people he’s tried to chat up only came back to one single topic, he knew he had to find this Witcher himself. Because rumours are rumours and they make good clickbait, but they aren’t his style. No, Jaskier’s a fan of authenticity and given that he’s never even met a single Witcher, he doesn’t want to participate in any of the prejudices going on. He has a way better idea: Let the Witcher speak! Well, metaphorically, that is. Because, obviously, he will still be the one who tells the story, but it will be the Witcher’s. 

He has a whole plan put out already. 

Looking back at it, he probably should have guessed that it was the very one he’s been approaching last. If not for the way he’s been basically hiding himself away from the other people in the bar, then for the way everyone’s eyes either seems to trail over to this corner during the conversation, or how they avoided it completely. But Jaskier had been so focused on his quest that it didn’t even occur to him the object of his search could be in the open field.

Well, he never claimed to be clever.

As it was, Jaskier approached him easily, sinking down on the stool across from the man. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood,” he declares, taking a closer look at him. The guy isn’t looking at him, rather stares at the wall next to him - which is rude, if you ask Jaskier - so there’s not much to say about his face, sadly. His white hair is tied up in a way that he won’t even pretend to understand, because there’s still enough of it hanging loose to count as a braid or something, he thinks. He’s glad he’s never had a long-haired phase.

“I'm here to drink alone,” he gets as an answer. The man’s voice is so low that he almost doesn’t hear it over the conversations in the bar, hushed as they are, and still it sounds like a growl, one that’s supposed to scare him away. Good that he’s more than used to such behaviour. Plus, there’s a melody to the voice as well, and that’s what draws him in.

“Good,” Jaskier nods. It means he can talk to him all on his own, that there won’t be any friends barging into this little interview of his. 

“Yeah, good.”

This is his chance, Jaskier realizes. He still has the guy’s attention, even though he looks down at the glass in his - rather large, might he add - hand, he can tell. “So, what do you think? Everyone here’s chattering away and you sit here, minding your own business. Say, aren’t you curious?”

The white-haired giant stays quiet. Jaskier can tell that he isn’t ignoring him as a whole but just _pretending_ to do so. It’s a classic move, he’s familiar with it. He watches as the guy drowns his drink in a gulp.

“About the Witcher, I mean? The slayer of, what do I know, the pike with the spike that lurks in your drawers-- Or! Or the flying drake that will fill you with horror--” He rattles off. It seems pretty unlikely that there’s anyone here who does not care _at all_ about the monster hunter so close to them. 

And something about it makes the guy scoff lightly. 

“What was that?” Jaskier inquires.

“They don’t exist.”

“What don’t exist?”

Finally, the guy puts down his glass. “The creatures in your speech.”

“And how would you know?” Jaskier asks. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking at him expectantly. 

Rather than saying anything, the guy just looks at him. For the first time since he’s started the conversation, and for a fleeting moment Jaskier doesn’t think anything of it. He’d be lying if he claimed he’s not used to people rolling their eyes at him. But then he notices: His eyes. They’re so bright… Such a light brown, they almost seem orange and there’s something else to them, too, something that doesn’t seem of this world. 

“Oh, fun.” Thinking quickly, Jaskier lets his own eyes swipe over the man once more, looking for everything he’s missed before. And yes, next to the man, there’s a big dark satchel that contains two long and thin items that leave little to imagination. “White hair big, old loner, two very very scary-looking swords. I know who you are,” he declares. Because suddenly it’s obvious. He’s been looking for tales _about_ the Witcher, but here he’s found him, completely in the flesh and all.

There’s another scoff coming from the man - the _Witcher_ \- as he grabs his bag and gets up. Not looking at Jaskier once more, he passes him.

Well, no, that won’t pass. He hasn’t spent the past how-many-hours listening to assumptions and thoughts that don’t interest him just to be ignored like this. “You’re the Witcher!” He calls after him. “Geralt of Rivia, was it not?”

In an instant, the entire pub falls quiet. As much as the people have talked before, and as aware as they’d been of the Witcher’s presence - hell, they’d even _known_ where he sat, had they not? - it’s like his announcement only made them aware of the fact that maybe, _just maybe_ , the Witcher is an approachable person.

Because suddenly, there’s a guy stepping forward, blocking the Witcher’s path. “A job I've got for ya. I beg you,” he adds when there’s no imminent response. “A devil-- he's been stealing all our grain. In advance, I'll pay you. A hundred.”

There’s a further exchange going on, one where the Witcher seems to actually respond, but Jaskier doesn’t pay attention to that exactly. He can read it in his stance, the fact that he _will_ accept the offer. And _oh_ , a devil? Jaskier can’t even imagine what that’d be like. And given the way their conversation has gone, he can’t hope for any details to come out of the hunter’s mouth at any point. No, to get his story, there is but one option left: He needs to tag along. He needs to see this with his own eyes.

He rushes after the Witcher when he’s left the bar and follows him down the streetwalk. “Need a hand? I've got two,” he says in a lieu of greeting. It wouldn’t do to surprise the guy and get himself killed in the process. “One for each of the, uh, devil's horns.” He doubts that he could do anything should he be faced with the beast, but it’s always better to offer something.

“Go away,” the Witcher snarls. It’s something that Jaskier is more than used to, as well. 

Well, another approach, then. “I heard your note, and, yes, you're right, maybe real adventures would make better stories,” he admits. And that’s what he’s been here for, after all. A real and fascinating story to pass on! “And you, sir, smell chock-full of them. Amongst other things. I mean, what is that? Is that onion? It doesn't matter,” he quickly adds. Curse his paying attention to every little detail. But it’s not like he can help it, the guy honestly _reeks_. But something tells him that insulting him won’t be any help. “Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny,” he continues, “Heroics and heartbreak.”

“It's onion,” he gets a cool answer.

Ah, a man who doesn’t want to boast, then. Even more lucky for him that he has encountered Jaskier! If he doesn’t want to brag about himself, then he’ll gladly do it for him. It will bring attention, maybe even money, though who knows with YouTube’s latest algorithm. For all he knows, his account could also get suspended. But it’s a risk he’ll take. “Ooh, I could be your barker, spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken.”

The Witcher stops short and Jaskier grins to himself. He _knew_ he’d get him to come around. After all, the offer is nothing but beautiful. What could he lose? That’s right: Nothing. He only wins. Attention, a companion, maybe even a friend? “Come here,” the Witcher says, so lowly that if it weren’t for the fact that they’re the only two people here, Jaskier wouldn’t have thought he means him.

“Yeah?” He says happily, stepping forward.

Only to get punched in the gut. 

Jaskier curls up at once, wheezing in pain. _Fuck_ , you give a guy a nice offer and he thanks you like this? But it’s not like he hasn’t pegged him for the brute type. For all he knows, this is how friendships are made in the Witcher culture. So he puts his hands around the Witcher’s arm and grins up at him, “Is that a yes?” He presses out between clenched teeth, because he fears that if he opens his mouth he might shout in pain.

-

“Reading between the lines and the gut punches, chum, I'd say you have got a bit of an image problem,” Jaskier shouts at Geralt over the airstream - and he calls him Geralt now, because they’re friends, he’s decided. “Now that I’m to join you on this feat to defeat the devil of Posada, I could relieve you of that title. All the North would be too busy singing the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the-- the White Wolf or-- or something.”

He’s seated in a handmade sidecar, one that seems like it could fall apart any second now. Honestly, he knows he should probably be thankful for being aloud to tag along at all, but looking up at Geralt where he’s seated on his motorcycle comfortable and all while he has to be crammed in-- what is this, an old crate for oranges or something? He doesn’t even know where Geralt produced the wheels, but they’re there. It doesn’t make this any more comfy, though. “Mind if I hop up? You know, I got too lanky a leg to be seated here like this--” 

“You don’t get to touch Roach,” Geralt declares boomingly. 

Of course he gave his bike a name. 

It’s a cool one, at least. 

It takes a bit longer until Geralt comes to a halt, lifting his long and muscular legs from the vehicle without saying anything. Jaskier extracts himself from the box. As he stretches out, he lets his eyes wander and take in the scenery. Ah, he knows where they are. “The elves called this Dol Blathanna before bequeathing it to the humans and retreating into their golden palaces in the mountains,” he explains. Geralt is a foreigner, after all. When there’s no answer, he adds, “There I go again, just delivering exposition.” 

Again, there’s no response, and he turns around. Geralt’s already stalked of. “Geralt? Geralt! Wh-Where are you going? Geralt, don't leave me!” He calls after him. If this is where Geralt’s put a stop, then it means the monster’s not far away. And truth be told, he’d rather not be alone in such an environment. Call him a coward all you want. He jogs after him. “What are we looking for again?”

Geralt just sighs. “Blessed silence.”

It’s obviously a jab at him, but, as established, he’s already fairly used to all of those. He shakes his head lightly. “Yeah, I don't really go in for that,” he declares. Better to set up the rules now. Which reminds him, he’s here to scout for details! So he adds, “Have you ever hunted a devil before?”

“Devils don’t exist.”

“Right. Obviously.” Because it seems like any being Jaskier’s ever heard about is completely fictional, of course. But then again, Geralt didn’t seem like he’s batted an eye when the guy at the pub had approached him but _accepted_ his offer. “Then, uh then what are we doing?”

Geralt replies something and, honestly, in retrospect Jaskier wishes he could recall it. Because he can already tell there’s not many instances where you get him to talk at all, period. But hell, you can’t blame him for being a little distracted when they got _attacked_. 

By a _devil_ , by the way. 

With horns and whatnot. 

-

Again, in retrospect, maybe Jaskier isn’t cut out for tagging along on adventures. For starters, he doesn’t have any skills that would help here. He doesn’t know how to fight and bruises easily, so that’s not exactly monster hunter material right there. Oh, and then there’s the fact that _he doesn’t know when to shut u_ _p_. He wasn’t kidding when he told Geralt that, actually.

Because even when tied to each other in the middle of an abandoned office building, his first instinct is to fucking _talk_. It’s a coping mechanism, don’t blame him, alright? 

“This is the part,” he reminds Geralt, because maybe he’s got the whole adventure-routine more down than he does, “where we escape.”

Geralt doesn’t sound too happy. He growls, “This is the part where they _kill_ us.”

“... Who’s ‘they’?”

And just as if they’d been waiting for an invitation, they arrive. One of them kicks Geralt in the face to make him stop struggling against the ropes they used to bind them together. 

“Elves,” Geralt grunts. 

They go back and forth a bit, talking in Elder. Which Jaskier, clever as he is, has picked up bits and parts of in his life, but not enough to really understand all of it. They got a weird accent, too. “My Elder speech is rough... I only got part of that,” he tells them. Who knows what they’re trying to get across there? It might be important.

“Humans, shut up.”

“Ah, got it, thanks so much.”

What follows then is a beautiful talk about history and current political issues and, really, Jeskier feels along with them. Or he _would_ if they hadn’t broken his phone first. That almost hurts more than the kicking and punching, honestly. Which is the reason why he kept yelling mean things at them. Had they written their hospitality in bold letters, he might have caught up on that, but as it’s been… well, he’s got a big mouth. 

And it seems like he only worsens the situation; there’s no doubt they’ll be killed in a moment and-- oh _fuck_ , they’re starting with _Geralt_. He could’ve taken it if they killed him first, make it swift and easy and be done but _hell_ , he’ll have to watch Geralt die and hear him scream and--

The devil steps in the way and announces to his fellow creeps, “The witcher could've killed me. But he didn't,” he pauses. “He's different. Like us.”

Jaskier fights back the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, this is such a cliche set-up, if you think about it. They’ve discussed how it’s been, how the humans have slaughtered the elves not too long ago, so of course they come back to the differences. But that method is such an old tale, he doubts it’ll take. 

Geralt, however, jumps on that train. “If you must kill me I am ready,” he declares. Which is fine for him, really, but that doesn’t mean that _Jaskier_ is. “But the Sylvan's right. Don't call me human.”

-

By some sheer miracle, the method takes. Jaskier doesn’t know how or why - maybe the elves aren’t too familiar with classical stories or something, so they bought it. They’re let go just like that and Geralt, feeling bad for them or something, hands them over the money he’d been paid in advance. 

Suddenly they’re all friends or something because, before Jaskier knows any better, one of the elves catches him by the arm and hands him over a phone. One that looks brand new and unlike any he’s seen before. It’ll do a great job for what he’s planning to do with this story.

“I do have respect for Filavandrel. He survived the Great Cleansing once,” he tells Geralt when they’re on their way back to his motorcycle. The path didn’t get any longer, of course, but it sure feels like it. He guesses it’s due to the many sore parts of his body. “Who knows? Maybe he can do it again. Be reborn.”

He feels like he has to say this now, just to get his true thoughts out there. He’s a storyteller, he knows that this won’t take off in the way he wants it to. No, in his mind he sees it before him. Geralt, the monster killer, who won’t step down from a fight. Because after all, humans want to feel safe themselves. They do not care what the so-called ‘monsters’ have gone through, especially not because of them. So he will spin a different tale; he can’t help it, a man’s gotta eat, after all. And if people hear more of Geralt The Protector, then they’ll surely hire him more. It’s just good for the both of them, really. 

-

_“Anyway, I set up a ko-fi account for the Witcher, because I highly doubt the guy has ever used the Internet in his entire life. So, if you feel like it, toss a coffee at him, eh? I see it now— this won’t be the last you hear of him.”_


	2. SELF-TEST: Does The Witcher Make A Good Bodyguard?

_“So, as you know, VidCon is upon us and-- well, I’ve actually received an invitation? Like, to a YouTuber party and all? Wouldn’t have dreamt of it in my life, to be honest. And… you know, when you’re as much of a disaster as I am, you’re bound to make some enemies. So, I asked Geralt for a favour…”_

-

Despite his brilliant way of negotiating with the elves back when he’d first met the Witcher, Geralt has insisted that Jaskier stays away from any monsters. It’s actually quite thoughtful, if you ask him, the fact that he’s so worried about his safety. Well, it’s also for the better on another account: After his first few vlogs - because of course the two of them have been through so much more by now - he’s grown to quite a popularity amongst the people; they’re basically fighting each other about who gets to tell him about their encounters with a beast themself. Or, just sometimes, there’s someone who’s seen Geralt fight. It makes a nice picture, getting another person’s words about it. So nowadays Jaskier stays back at whatever pub they’d found as a hide-out and talks to the town’s people while Geralt does his job. It works just fine.

Currently, there’s a scared big man talking about what he’d seen when Geralt faced a selkiemore just moments before. It must have been quite the sight because the guy looks like usually nothing should affect him, now he appears like he’s seen his greatest horror. It’s an amazingly intriguing story, of course. “The ice cracked open and a selkiemore shot out! Oh, you've never seen one, but it'd take down a ship with its cavernous mouth full of devil's teeth!” The people surrounding the table Jaskier’s seated at, jotting down notes, all gasp in a chorus at that. After a short break, the guy adds, “And it swallowed that Witcher whole!”

A barking laugh escapes Jaskier’s lips. “Oh, this is brilliant!” He declares happily. Then he notices that everyone is staring at him in surprise and he shoots a quick look at the current narrator. “Oh, sorry. It's just Geralt's usually so stingy with the details,” he tells him. “Uh-- and then what happened?”

He meets wide eyes. “He died,” comes the answer, sounding bemused.

Again, everyone just gasps.

Jaskier shrugs at that. “Eh, he’s fine.” He’s seen Geralt face way worse than a selkie before and as dramatic as the guy made it sound, that’s not how the Witcher would go down if he hadn’t planned for that. Way too little action on his part, if you ask him.

The townsman opens his mouth to speak up against Jaskier’s clearly superior assessment of the situation, when suddenly the pub’s door bangs open.

Swiftly, Jaskier sends a fist to the ceiling. “See?” 

There’s a murmur soaring up amongst the people, talking as if it’s a miracle that Geralt stands here amongst them. Which, honestly, they wouldn’t do if they had paid any attention to his vlogs, if you ask him. 

He adds a last point to his notes app before pocketing his phone and glancing up at the Witcher. He’s completely covered in… Jaskier doesn’t even know what, but it’s pretty disgusting to look at. And now just that. “Oh, what’s that stench?”

“Selkiemore guts,” Geralt answers. “Had to get it from the inside.” So Jaskier’s read the situation completely right then. Everything’s been completely planned by his friend, which is still quite a relief, even if he’d already guessed as much. To the man who’d been telling the story before, Geralt says, “I’ll take what I’m owed.”

“Oh yes!” Jaskier nods. “Remember, friends: Toss a coffee at your Witcher!” He collects a few loose coins and bills that get handed in their direction while Geralt pockets the main payment before retreating back to a corner of the room. 

It’s cute that he still thinks that’ll work.

“Thank you! You’re welcome!” Jaskier says to just about anyone as he makes his way over to Geralt, enjoying the bath in the crowd like that. It feels good to finally be appreciated in the way that matters. He slides down across from the Witcher easily, as it’s become kind of a ritual for them by now. “And now, Geralt, it's time to repay your debt.” He’s meant to make it sound ominous, but he doesn’t get any reaction from him. Not even a quirk of the eyebrow. What a bummer. Still, Jaskier continues, “I've made you famous, Witcher. By rights, I should be claiming ten percent of all your pay, but instead, what I'm asking for is a teeny, teeny-weeny little favor.”

“Fuck off, storyteller.”

Jaskier decides to ignore that. Geralt probably can’t help being grumpy, covered in blood and guts and whatnot. Once they’re in their hotel room, he’ll drop him into a bathtub. “For one measly night of service, you will gain a cornucopia of earthly delights. The greatest masters of the culinary arts crafting morsels worthy of the gods.” He doubts that it’s true for such a convention, but he needs to make this tasty, doesn’t he? Even if fast food doesn’t necessarily classify as any such thing. “Maidens that would make the sun itself blush with a single comely smile,” he continues. And _that_ he knows for sure. 

Geralt just grunts that grunt of his and to the untrained ear, it could sound like he does not care at all. Jaskier takes it as an affirmation that he’s got his attention all the same, even if he isn’t sounding too happy. 

“Now, now, stop your boorish grunts of protest,” he chides. “It is one night bodyguarding your very best friend in the whole wide world.”

“I’m not your friend,” Geralt barks.

Jaskier scoffs. Yeah, they’ll see about that tonight when he needs help applying his salve to the most sensitive parts of his body and Jaskier’s the only person around who’ll grace him with his soft hand. Maybe he should postpone this conversation until then.

-

Jaskier isn’t just a blessed storyteller, but he’s got a way of persuasion to himself as well. Which is the reason why he’s standing here with Geralt now, in the middle of the entrance hall to VidCon. He isn’t actually scheduled for any panels or something like this, but merely got an invitation to hang out with fellow YouTubers. And well, if you want to count as something in that world, you better show up to that, even if you totally don’t want to.

“How many of these want to kill you?” Geralt wants to know as he lets his eyes roam around the room. He’s probably cataloguing everyone mentally.

“Hard to say,” Jaskier shrugs. At the lift of Geralt’s eyebrow, he adds, “One stops keeping count after a while. Wives, girlfriends, mothers sometimes. Not to mention the boyfriends.”

The Witcher’s face sours at that, though for what reason exactly he can’t tell.

“Ooh, yeah, that face! Ooh! Scary face! No person in their right mind will come close if you're standing next to me with a puss like that,” Jaskier says happily. He looks Geralt up and down once more, just to make sure the whole picture attributes to that. He grabs the beer bottle out of his hand. “A clear head would be best,” he adds at the complaining noise Geralt makes.

He massages the bridge of his nose in reply. “I will not suffer tonight sober just because you peeped through the wrong camera hole.” He whines half-heartedly. Then, more seriously, he reminds him that he won’t kill anyone for him. Which is quite a tad overdramatic, if you ask Jaskier. Geralt’s just supposed to make sure nobody will kill _him_.

“Yes, yes, yes. You never get involved,” he says, rolling his eyes. Then he smirks at the Witcher. “Except you actually do, all of the time.” He’s got enough proof of that saved to his phone, not that he’d tell Geralt about the photo and video evidence.

“Ugh,” Geralt just makes, like it’s the worst thing to be reminded of that.

The corner of Jaskier’s mouth quirks at that. “Is this what happens when you get old? You get unbearably crotchety and cantankerous?” He teases. “Actually, I've always wanted to know-- do Witchers ever retire?”

“Yeah,” Geralt nods. “When they slow and get killed.”

Obviously, this is another grumpy answer, because that’s just a no-go. In Jaskier’s opinion, there’s more to life than work only, and given that they’re living in the 21st century and monsters are becoming rarer and rarer, he guesses it won’t be too long until Geralt’s either killed or tamed all of them. “Come on, you must want something for yourself once all this monster hunting nonsense is over with.”

Geralt scoffs. “I want nothing.”

It’s a little odd, in Jaskier’s opinion, but then again Geralt’s spent most of his time living from one job to the other, so maybe he doesn’t even know anything about having a little luxury to himself. “Well, who knows? Maybe someone out there will want you,” he tells him. 

Surprisingly, the Witcher’s face manages to grow even darker. “I need no one,” he decides. And with a stern look directed at Jaskier, he adds, “And the last thing I want is someone needing me.”

Again, Jaskier just shrugs. “And yet here we are.” He puts a hand on Geralt’s shoulder for a second, but recoils again when he’s met with a growl. He sighs to himself. “Well, let’s get into this, then.”

They step further into the room rather than just looking at the people from the side. It’s a colourful collection, actually, and Jaskier can’t quite tell how many of the people here he really knows. Not just because he’s bad at memorizing faces, but simply because it’s such a big number of people crammed into a single room; everyone’s talking to one another and there are countless cameras directed everywhere. 

It’s for the better he’s talked Geralt into dressing casually then, because he wouldn’t like seeing the hero of his videos be commercialized by others. Honestly, it’s been quite clever of him to keep Geralt’s face, as pretty as it is, out of his videos, because that would only create chaos. It’s good that nobody will recognize him like this.

Which is, of course, the moment they get approached by a very focus-driven older man. “Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher!” He bellows when he stops in front of them. Ignoring Jaskier’s wave of curses at that, he continues, “I haven't seen you since the plague.”

“Good times, Mousesack,” Geralt nods. 

Jaskier can’t help but gape at him. Is Geralt… being friendly? That must be something for the history books, in all honesty.

“I've missed your sour complexion,” the old man teases. He _teases_ , and while that’s something Jaskier would get punched in the ribs for at the very least, Geralt starts smirking now instead. It’s so _weird_. “I feared this would be a dull affair, but now the White Wolf is here, perhaps all is not lost,” Mousesack continues with a grin. He looks Geralt up and down as if to check up on him, but stops short at some point. “Why are you dressed like a sad silk trader?”

Instead of replying out loud, Geralt just tilts his head a little in Jaskier’s direction, as if that explains a lot.

And it must do so, because Mousesack looks at him for a moment only before nodding in something akin to _understanding_. “Well, then. Walk with me, will you, Witcher?” 

Jaskier expects him to decline, tell the guy to fuck off, or at least to declare that he’s here with him and should under no circumstances leave his side, but nothing of that happens. Instead, Geralt agrees, setting off with whoever the fuck this Mousesack dude even is.

Which is just superb, honestly.

-

Once Geralt has left him to his own devices, it does not take too long until Jaskier gets approached by somebody. He’s been roaming around, looking for a conversation to barge into that won’t end with him getting beaten up in an alleyway - because the swift looks he’s shot Geralt’s way told him enough about having lost the guy’s attention. So much for bodyguarding, then.

In fact, Geralt seems… well, still slightly uncomfortable as he gets dragged into talking to people who look _so_ out of his world. Where Geralt is his tall, broody and handsome usual self, the woman he is currently talking to is outgoing, energetic and completely fake, as far as Jaskier can tell from here. He eyes her a bit closer and-- oh shit, that’s Calanthe. 

Calanthe, as in the person who’s organized most of this thing here. Calanthe, as in the person with the most followers currently grazing people’s screens. Jaskier supposes her videos _are_ entertaining, given that they cover such a big variety of themes; there are DIY guides to building weapons, vlogs to accompany fights, and drinking games with other popular YouTubers. It might be fun to look at, but he’s never gotten around to doing much of that. He’s more a connoisseur of the fine arts.

Somehow, he thinks, she and Geralt make quite the pair. 

At that point, his view gets crowded by a very ugly-looking man. What a down-grade, sadly. Not to mention how furious the guy looks. “Something about you reminds me of the arsehole I once found hiding in my wife’s wardrobe!”

Which could very well be, truth be told, though Jaskier would be lying if he said the man looks familiar to him as well. There've been countless of instances he could be referring to, so pardon him if he doesn’t have them all in line. “Uh, well--”

“Drop your pants,” the man orders.

At that, Jaskier just stares at him. What the _hell_? He’s supposed to strip down right here, where there’s so many famous people around and methods of recording spread around the entire room? “What?”

He gets an easy shrug return. “I didn't get a proper look at the little shit's face,” he explains, “but that pimply arse I'd remember anywhere.”

Now that is just a mean insult. Jaskier does _not_ have a pimply arse, thank you very much, and he’s never _had_ one either. Still, the man does not look like he’ll buckle down from his request any time soon and there’s a dark gleam in his eyes that tells Jaskier he’d like nothing more than give him a beating for good measure. 

“Well, uh-- uh--” He starts again, trying to think of a way to talk himself out of this situation. It should be easy, shouldn’t it? His whole damn reason for being here in the first place is that he knows how to talk well. Relief floods through him when a familiar broad figure approaches from the sight. “Ah, Geralt!”

“I’m sorry for this,” Geralt says. Not to Jaskier but to the man. In fact, he doesn’t look at him just once. “This happens all the time. It’s true, he has the face of an ass and a coward.” He grabs Jaskier’s upper arm, making him let out a small yelp.

The guy just hums in agreement. 

“But, to be honest, he was kicked in the balls by an ox as a child,” Geralt continues. Jaskier can see the small smirk tug at his mouth for the briefest moment when the Witcher tightens his grip as Jaskier opens his mouth to argue. “Believe me, I would know.”

At that, Jaskier’s mysterious attacker wipes all the emotions from his face. He looks from one of them to the other before hurriedly saying, “Oh, I see. Well, then… apologies.” And with that, he walks away.

Jaskier closes a hand around Geralt’s arm and winds himself out of his grip. It’s been loose already, or else he wouldn’t have managed that, he knows, but it does make for a nice scene as he shoves the Witcher’s hand away. “Thank _you_ ,” he declares sarcastically. “First of all, you hog all the fanfare, then you go and ruin my freaking reputation.”

Geralt scoffs. “I _helped_ you. Besides, now that they know you are with me, they’ll leave you alone.”

While Jaskier is aware that he is very much with Geralt - they did come here together, after all -, hearing it like this gives him a weird feeling in his stomach. As he shakes it off, Geralt starts rtreating again. “Wait, what? Are you off, continuing your little chit chat, then?”

“That’s what we’re here for isn’t it?” Geralt shrugs. “You're on your own from here on. Try not to get any daggers in your back before dawn.”

A really helpful advice, especially when the man supposed to be watching said back goes to be distracted for the rest of the night. But then again, he must have still kept an eye on Jaskier, because otherwise there’d be no way that he came to his rescue so soon. Maybe he’s not _truly_ on his own then, after all.

-

_“So, I guess if you followed everyone’s content, you’ll already know what’s happened at VidCon as a whole. Lots of proposals, an argument between the queen of the Internet and her daughter, and an allergic reaction to make-up that led to one guy being viewed as a monster. Honestly, I still don’t know if Calanthe had been for real with her assumption or what, but she’d soon shut up after Geralt diagnosed him with ‘human’, the poor guy._

_“Anyway, like I said, you’ll probably see enough of that on her channel already. Let’s get back to what you guys came_ here _for: Would I recommend hiring a Witcher as your bodyguard? Honestly? No, I wouldn’t. No idea if that’s just been Geralt specifically or what, but_ fuck _, the dude is_ distracted _…"_


	3. I FOUND A DJINN! (And Almost Got Killed…) ft. Geralt The Witcher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware: This is where we leave canon to go die in a ditch.

_“Okay, you know what? I’m used to being hurt-- I know it might come as a surprise to you, my dear viewers, but sadly not everyone loves your dear storyteller as much as you blessed people do. So, of course I have gotten many an insult to my face, but I must assure you that this one has left quite its mark. Why, you ask?_

_“_ Oh _, only because I was_ this _close to_ dying _…”_

-

Jaskier has travelled with Geralt for long enough by now to read him like an open book. Okay, admittedly, that’s an exaggeration because, truth be told, he highly doubts that Geralt himself knows what his grunts are supposed to really mean half the time. But the thing is that he’s starting to notice the little things, too. 

For example, how the Witcher hasn’t slept in days. Each morning when Jaskier wakes, Geralt is already up and packing up their things, no matter how late they had turned in for the night. Sometimes, when he wakes up during the night to grab something to drink or to go to the bathroom, he’ll find him in exactly the same position he’d been in when Jaskier had seen him last: Seated in the next armchair, looking like he’s taking a nap, but his eyes are wide open. It’s freaked him out the first few times that’s happened, but he’s learnt by now that this is some kind of Witcher-meditation or something. It involves some kind of resting, according to Geralt, but not enough that it could be comparable to any kind of sleep.

So, it leads back to this: Geralt doesn’t sleep. So far Jaskier had thought it’s been because he didn’t truly need to, or he didn’t want to, or because he was too insistent on not sharing the bed with him - which he supposes he can’t really judge him for, it would get a little crowded, considering how big Geralt is and how much space he takes up when he’s asleep. It didn’t occur to him once that the Witcher truly has _trouble_ falling asleep, for whatever reason that may be.

But one morning Jaskier finds their hotel room completely empty. Safe for his own things, there’s nothing left; almost as if Geralt hadn’t been there in the first place. He does know for sure, though, that he has been, so after getting dressed quickly and pocketing all his things, Jaskier makes his way down to the reception.

“Good morning!” He greets happily. “Pray, tell, is there any event for a Witcher in town today?” Because it could very much be that he’s gotten hired while Jaskier was drowsing away in dreamland and just didn’t want to wake him up. A very sensitive thing to do, especially if it has been a routine monster.

The person working the reception looks like she’d rather be still asleep herself. She only raises an eyebrow at him, chewing her gum all the while. “The Witcher said that he will be back soon and you should under no circumstances follow him.”

That does like a very Geralt-like thing to say, even if he doubts that’s a verbatim retelling of the words. But the message doesn’t leave a doubt that he _has_ spoken to the girl.

“Any idea about where he left to?” If he knew anything, he could already think of a few wordings for the next vlog already.

He gets a shrug for an answer. “Asked where to find fishing supplies,” she says absent-mindedly. 

Jaskier’s pretty happy with that, actually, given that Geralt had probably meant to _imply_ not to pass anything on to him. Her fatigue, however, just plays into his cards. He asks whether Geralt has already checked them out already, getting a negative reply, and nods to himself. 

Truth be told, he does not really see what Geralt could probably be fishing for, but there’s no people hiding away from the street as he crosses it, so he guesses there might not be an active monster around after all. Which means he won’t run headfirst into danger - not that he minds as much, actually, not when it means the Witcher of his heart is close-by anyways - if he walks down to the river. If he walks it up and down, he’s bound to encounter Geralt.

Actually, if you ask him, it’s quite rude that the Witcher would disappear on him like that without doing so much as leaving a note. Sure, Geralt might be a stranger to all things technology, that much is a given, so it’s not like he’d write a text message, but he could’ve left a little handwritten note or whatever. Come to think, though, _can_ Witchers even write? He’s seen Geralt read through some announcements before and so far he’d always thought he’s just always been brooding over whether to go for it or not, but what if he had trouble reading it at all? Damn, should he have offered to help out with that? This is something to find out at some point. Less about monsters and more about the hunters, yeah.

He stops when he sees Roach parked at the side of the road. She feels cold to his touch, so Geralt must have been here for quite some time already. Which is awful, considering that it’s still rather early in the morning. 

From where he stands, he looks down at the river and finds Geralt bent over towards the water, his leans muscles visible from where they’re exposed. He’s got the black dress shirt from last night still on his body, only that now he’s got the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and showing the white skin all too clearly, and it’s rolled up on his back as well, leaving a clear stripe of his lower back naked. Judging by how it’s sparkling in the bright sunlight, he must have been working for quite a while already.

Jaskier watches as he throws something into the water with a loud grunt and decides to make his way down to the riverside. “Geralt!” He calls easily, jumping from stone to stone. “Hello!”

He is no stranger to being ignored by Geralt like this, so he doesn’t mind too much when he gets no reply. Instead, the Witcher pulls at a rather thick rope and retreats what he has thrown before. It looks like a net.

“Oh, are we having fresh breakfast?” Jaskier wants to know. “Have you caught anything today?” He looks around, trying to find something that could contain Geralt’s prey. It would surprise him if the guy should not be great at fishing, too. It’s almost like whatever needs two working hands, he’s perfectly capable of it. Not that he could account for _everything_ in that regard, but it’s an assumption nonetheless. However, he doesn’t find any hints of success. “What are you fishing for, exactly? Is it cod? Carp? Pike? Bream? Well, I'm just listing fish that I know--”

“I’m not fishing,” Geralt lets him know. “I can’t sleep.”

And that’s where Jaskier gets the aforementioned epiphany about Geralt’s meditation methods. Still, it doesn’t explain what he’s doing here then. “Right. Good. Well, that makes sense. Insomuch that it sort of doesn't,” he rattles off. With a swift motion, he walks up to his friend, taking in his sight once more. Up close, he can see the frustration stitched into the Witcher’s features. “What's going on, Geralt? Talk to me.”

“A djinn.”

For a moment, he thinks he might have sneezed. “A what?”

“I'm looking for a djinn,” Geralt clarifies.

“For a dj-- For a djinn? Like a genie?” Jaskier repeats. He’s heard of them before, but like with any kind of inhuman creature, it hasn’t painted a pretty picture. “The floaty fellas with the bad tempers and the banned magics, that kind of genie?”

“Yes,” Geralt replies like that’s nothing to care about at all. “It'll grant me wishes. It's in this river somewhere. _And I can't fucking sleep_!” Had anyone else said the last bit, it would’ve sounded like a whine. Geralt, however, barks it out in a way that makes birds leave their nests above them.

“I don't mean to play priest's ear or anything, but has it occurred to you that maybe we're merely rubbing salve on a tumor?” Jaskier offers. There’s plenty of things that could have left Geralt sleepless. He doesn’t think that you can walk through this world like the Witcher does for too long until the horrors you have faced become too much. “Don’t you think it could be that vampire you saw slaughter a child just--”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Geralt cuts in. “It’s not that! And your thousands of colourful nonsense-spewing certainly aren’t helping the case--”

“My _what_?” Jaskier repeats. “We are so having this conversation,” he decides, putting his hands on his hips. He takes another step forward so that the Witcher has to look at him. “Come on, Geralt. Tell me. Be honest. How are my stories?” He knows that Geralt must hear them quite frequently, given that he’s always close by when Jaskier records his videos.

Geralt is quiet for a moment, throwing his net into the water beside Jaskier again. Then he snorts, “It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling.”

He says it so dryly that it can’t be anything akin to the teasing they usually have going on between one another. Jaskier gasps at him in shock. “You need a _nap_!” He agrees with the Witcher. Clearly, he’s not right in his head, or else he wouldn’t be lying like that. “I mean, are you trying to hurt my feelings, Geralt? It's downright indecorous of you, if I'm completely honest, and--” 

He’s cut off when there’s something pulling at the net and Geralt has to find getting it back to him. He’s seen how strong he is, so this must be something quite unusual. Once it’s back on land, they both bend down over the net and find-- A bottle.

“Wow,” Jaskier makes. There’s a pretty motive on the lid. “What is that?”

“It's a wizard's seal,” Geralt explains.

Jaskier figures it out easily then. In a hushed whisper, he determines, “The djinn.” He reaches down and picks up the bottle before Geralt can even react. “Do you mind if I--”

“Jaskier,” Geralt drawls, making grabby hands for the bottle.

Jaskier, however, doesn’t make it too easy on him. No, ugly things have been said and, _hell_ , like he’s giving in so easily to those. Geralt should apologize, if he’s quite honest. “Take it back about my fillingless pie.” He tries to get away from Geralt’s grip, but that doesn’t work so well when the guy’s got you crowded, so he just twists himself around. “Take it back, you get your djinny-djinn-djinn--”

There’s a scramble then, hands going back and forth, until suddenly the lid pops off, still seated securely in Geralt’s hand. 

And nothing happens.

“That's a bit of an anticlimax.” Jaskier comments, avoiding the pissed-off expression on Geralt’s face. But when suddenly there’s an ominous sound coming from just about anywhere, he cowers a little. “Or is it?”

The frustration has vanished from Geralt’s face now, he sees, and been exchanged for his concentrated look that he always puts on when accessing a situation. 

If you ask Jaskier, the case is more than clear: They’d been looking for a djinn, found a bottle and now it’s open. It isn’t too hard to think about what the source of that noise is. And given that he’s the one holding onto the genie’s vessel, it’s also quite clear who should be in charge now. “Djinn, I have freed thee, and as of this day, I am thy lord,” he declares, lifting his arms to the sky. “Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the Vlogger from Cidaris, be struck down with apoplexy and die.” It’s not too far off, given the temperament the guy has. And Jaskier could never stand him, not to mention the fact that he still owes him quite a huge sum of money, and he can’t imagine how many more people he’s screwed over like this, so it’ll be for the better. 

He pauses for a moment, wondering what his next wish should be. Come to think of it, what if Geralt has been right before? What if his storytelling isn’t as good as he’d thought it is? Maybe he isn’t as gifted as he’d figured and that’s why his number of followers has stagnated lately. He’d thought it’s been due to a lack of updates, thanks to the peace at the moment, but what if it had been his _quality_? “Secondly, I want to become the best storyteller in the whole world. Make it so that people can’t stop watching my YouTube videos! And thirdly--”

“ _Jaskier_!” Geralt bellows, cutting into his nice speech. He grabs Jaskier’s arm again and this time he succeeds in wrestling the bottle from him. “There are only three wishes.”

Jaskier scoffs, janking his hand away. “Oh, come on, you always say you want nothing from life.” He can recall that conversation quite vividly. “How was I to know you’d want all three wishes to yourself? Sharing is caring, my frie--”

“I just want some damn _peace_!”

What happens then is this: In a second, Jaskier throat clogs up at once, but not in the way like you have a cold coming. No, instead he literally can’t _breathe_ anymore, not to mention the way his entire breathing system burns; he tries to cough and finds that all that comes out is a dark and thick fluid-- blood.

“ _Geralt_ ,” he tries, but he doubts it’s an audible sound. _Shit_ , is he drowning?

“Jaskier?” The Witcher says, voice frantic for once as he jumps to his side, but before he can hear anything else, Jaskier’s mind gives up.

-

Jaskier comes to again when he feels something slide across his back, blinking away his disorientation. The first thing he notices is that his throat still feels like it’s on fire and he’s retching with every breath he takes. The second thing is that he’s seated on Roach, Geralt standing over him with worry in his eyes.

He doesn’t seem to notice that Jaskier’s awake again but pulls him into his arms, leaving his bike behind without a second look. The first person he encounters, he asks, “Is there a doctor here?”

He gets an answer but Jaskier can’t hear it. He feels panic creep up inside of him, the pain rushing through his entire body and he tries his best to stay calm, feeling like freaking out won’t help the case in any way. Instead, he focuses on Geralt’s own breathing, a sound that’s way faster than it should be. 

It does work, however, because he hadn’t even noticed they’re back to moving until Geralt bangs open a door, shoving his way inside. “Help!” He orders at nobody in particular. “He’s been-- a djinn. It must have attacked him.”

“A djinn in a bottle? It's like a fairy tale,” the man appearing from the side says. He takes a look at Jaskier and pulls a face. “Without the happy ending.”

“Can you help him?” Geralt wants to know as the doctor inspects Jaskier further.

“Oh, dear.”

 _Now,_ the panic breaks out anew. It’s never good to hear a doc say ‘oh, dear’. “What?” He voices as well as he can.

“I assure you I have received the best medical education right here in Rinde, but these injuries are of a magical nature.” The man explains, already turning around to rummage through a line up of bottles on the shelf. “I can help with the pain, but it's a bit like--”

“Putting salve on a tumor?” Geralt finishes. Talk about tables turning.

“His throat was attacked. If the spell's action isn't halted as soon as possible, that damage might be irreversible.” The doctor tells him earnestly, reaching for Geralt’s arm as if to turn him away. Probably so Jaskier won’t hear the rest. “And the longer he goes untreated, the more likely it is to spread. He could die.”

“ _Fuck_!” Jasier exclaims. “Geralt.”

In an instance, Geralt is back by his side. He puts a hand down on Jaskier’s back as if that could ease the pain. It does help with the panic, especially when he decides, “Yeah, we won't let that happen.”

He sounds so sure about it that Jaskier doesn’t pay any more attention to what they’re talking about. He accepts the potion the doctor feeds him and it feels as if - at least for the moment - the fire in his throat is coated with ice. He finds that it also makes it impossible to make any sounds at all, but for now that’s probably for the better. It won’t be too long now, he thinks, if Geralt’s been so determined. Because he knows the Witcher and if there’s one thing to be sure about, it’s that he’ll get the job done. 

Geralt will save him.

-

_“—and this is how I was a dead man for a few hours.”_

_“Wouldn’t have let that happen,” Geralt adds from the side, his voice - as always - nothing more than a growl. Jaskier knows better than to read it as pure annoyance by now._

_“Yeah, sure, you say that_ now _, like you had anything to do other than bringing me to that wrecked witch—” He’s teasing, of course, he knows that Geralt has never been in the position to do anything but that and yet he’s done so much more. Still, he’s still not too happy with that encounter._

_“Right,” Geralt says with a low chuckle._

_“Anyway, great, now I have to shoot this thing anew,” Jaskier grumbles, more to himself than anything else. He’s found it easier this way; make everything flow way smoother and naturally. Now that Geralt’s barged in like this, he has to do the whole thing from top just to ensure the Witcher himself isn’t in the end result._

_“Why that?” Geralt wants to know. He’s come back to the hotel room but keeps himself away from the camera’s view. Which is for the better, honestly, given that he’s wearing nothing more than a towel and_ that _sight surely can’t be appropriate for YouTube._

_“Um, because you barged in like this?” Jaskier answers. Given the flush he feels just about anywhere at the view he has, he’s quite proud his voice stays even. “And you don’t want to be in it, do you?”_

_“I don’t mind,” Geralt shrugs._

_And_ oh _, that’s new._

-

Jaskier has been parked in the middle of an orgy in the town hall while Geralt talks to the mage - who turns out to be a woman, by the way. And usually he wouldn’t mind leaning against a naked breast, but as it is, he’s unable to move due to something that must have been linked to the medicine he’d gotten or maybe even something that Geralt has done. He’s _sitting_ through the last moments of his life and cannot even enjoy the time he has left to it. 

He dozes away again while Geralt is having yet another lengthy conversation about his fate, the potion making him sleepy.

-

When Jaskier wakes up again, he immediately feels watched. Looking around, he doesn’t see anything, until-- _oh_ , there’s a woman right beside him, lying with him in the bed. She looks down at him with a sly smile, running a finger over his biceps. 

“Um,” he starts, scrambling up from under the blanket. Oh, well, he’s still dressed, at least. “Not to be untoward or anything but did we you know do the-- uh…”

There’s something about her that tells him that, _no_ , he definitely did not butter that biscuit. Suddenly, everything comes back to him: His almost dying, Geralt taking him to Rinde’s mage and-- well, that must be her then. Still, she creeps him out immensely, especially with the way she approaches him like an animal its prey.

“Look, I am so sorry, but I've just remembered I left-- my cat… on the stove,” he tries. “I-- I really must be going.” He tries to turn away, but she catches him again, holding him back by his arms.

“Express your deepest desires and you can be on your way,” she says in a low voice. It _would_ be attractive if he had the faintest clue about what’s going on, truth be told.

“Well, my deepest desires are currently satisfied, thank you so much,” he tells her swiftly.

The mage breaks into a smile, tilting her head. _Fuck_ , that’s so _unlike_ the way Geralt does it. It’s downright frightening, somehow. “How's your throat?” Ah, well. Reminding him that he’s in her debt. That’s a classic move.

He stops for a second.

“Well, fine enough, judging by your rambling,” she decides. And suddenly she cups his groin, squeezing in a way that makes him yelp. Yep, his vocal chords are alright again. “If you want to keep all you have, make a damn wish.”

“I--” What would she want with that? Never seen a djinn at work or what? He’d very much like to point out that his previous wishes have kind of achieved the opposite so he’d like to refrain from voicing any more, but she’s still dangerously close to some special parts of his, so… “I wish you let me go?” He tries. In truth, the stronger thought he has is ‘ _damn, I wish Geralt were here_ ’ because then he’d know _for sure_ that he’ll get out of this situation relatively unharmed.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, with a sigh, she lets him go.

Jaskier hurries off without even questioning that, for once in his life. Instead, he runs for his life, pushing one door open after another as he searches for an escape. He only comes to a halt when he runs into something big and bulky.

“Oh, Geralt!” He exclaims when he recognizes him. For a split second, he finds himself throwing his arms around the man. “Thank the gods. I might live to see another day. We need to go.”

“Jaskier, you're okay,” Geralt voices. Jaskier would say there’s something like relief painting his words, but he knows better. Even if the smile on his friend’s lips might convince him further of that.

“I'm glad to hear that you give a monkey's about it.”

Geralt shakes his head. “Let's not jump to conclusions. What happened?” He wants to know, as if he’s only now noticing that Jaskier was _running_ from something.

“Well, I was having a rather lovely dream which then turned into a nightmare.” Jaskier starts continuing his path, taking big strides that Geralt’s able to follow easily. “It involved a woman holding onto my private parts, but not in the fun way. I’ll tell you all about it on our way home but _please_ , Geralt, let’s _go_.”

He hears a snort coming from the Witcher. “Can’t wait,” he declares.

-

_“So, yes, this is how I almost died. My friends, take care of yourselves and don’t go looking for any djinns, is the moral of this story. Oh, and you’ll probably like that the Witcher himself made an appearance here - even if it’s only been his lovely voice, yes - so make sure to toss him some coffees on ko-fi. Link’s, like always, down in the description._

_“And if you want_ me _to_ literally _toss a coffee at your Witcher, make sure to support us on patreon! It’s a little treat I’m willing to give.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure if anyone even realizes here that Geralt is the one who has the wishes, but you can be assured all the same that he does _not_ make the one about Yennefer. It's another one that will be alluded to in the next chapter, though never _really_ confirmed, so I'm curious to see if you can guess! ;)
> 
> Also, the last sentences of this chapter was brought to you by my fiance Leon, so please applaud him.


	4. Q&A: Toss A Question At Your Vlogger

As it turns out, reporting on Geralt’s heroic acts takes off way better than expected. In truth, where Jaskier had expected people to enjoy the gruesome details and fights more, they’re way more passionate about learning how Witchers don’t differ from humans that much, after all. Who would have guessed? Looks like there’s still faith for the healthy mindset of the world.

Honestly, Jaskier doesn’t know if it’s always been like this, if that’s what _Witchers_ are like in general, or if it’s just Geralt specifically. Of course, the first option is preferable, but he does have to admit a kind of romantic notion to the latter one. Geralt, the loner who doesn’t fit to anyone in the world. Too hard for humans, too soft for his own kind. 

Then again, it could also just be that it’s because there aren’t too many monsters left in the world anyway. What would you have to be a stoic fighter for if all your enemies have been taken care of already? Jaskier definitely has proof enough for that theory; in the form of the boredom he currently faces.

This is the beast that he has to slay: The lack of stories to tell. For the past few weeks, he and Geralt have made their way through the lands, not being hired for anything. And not only does it mean they don’t have anything to do, it also means that they’re not earning anything. Plus, Jaskier can feel his followers leaving his account every few seconds.

It’s come so far that they could only afford a small room in a _motel_. One of those dark and gloomy ones. This might have been Geralt’s style before he met Jaskier and his standards, but this won’t fly for too long. While he very much enjoys the fact that Geralt, who has found a solution to his sleeping problem by now and isn’t so desperate any more that he’ll agree to the _very_ uncomfortable armchair that the room as to offer, climbs into the bed along with him - ensuring that Jaskier can feel his body against his own every night now, though of course in all innocence, he does get half a heart attack every time he encounters a rat. Which is way too often in this derelict.

So, feeling desperate, he’s decided to take action. 

In the form of a live chat, to be precise. He hasn’t done any like these before and it has taken a while to figure out how to start one, but now he’s all set. And he’s positive that all the stories he’s told so far have helped develop some questions that the people surely want to have answers to. And it’ll be a nice reminder that they’re still around and need some money to live off.

“Uh, hello,” he starts, a little awkwardly. He’s made sure beforehand to do this while Geralt is out doing who-knows-what, because while the Witcher has said he wouldn’t mind being audible on the vlog, it’s an entirely different thing to be _visible_. Plus, it’s not like he can edit this in case Geralt behaves inappropriately or something. But as much thought as he’s paid to all that, it didn’t occur to him that it’d take a while until people start noticing he’s online. “Oh, well, how to fill the time until some of you are here?” He wonders.

He could start telling another story, maybe one he didn’t find big enough to do a whole vlog about. There’s countless of little encounters they’ve had, small wild animals that people have thought were monsters, stuff like this. But it’s something else to talk to your camera, knowing that it’ll receive traction later on, so it’s fine to basically just talk to yourself, than it is to talk in the expectation of someone entering the chat.

“I suppose I should just say what I’m here for, huh?” He figures. There’s been a few notifications appearing on his screen, saying that people have, in fact, arrived. Not too many yet, but he’s sure it’ll get better the longer this lasts. “Well, I figured since you people are interested in the unknown aspects of a Witcher’s life - the _truth_ to it, in fact - we could do a little Q&A! Being in such a blessed position as I am, it gets quite impossible to even remember what Witchers are _supposed_ to be like. So, yeah, I know the truth in detail - one of them, admittedly. Keep the questions coming!”

And boy, are they coming. There still aren’t too many people around, but the number did grow as Jaskier was talking, so a few questions arrive quite swiftly.

There’s someone asking if he and Geralt really hadn’t known each other beforehand. 

“Oh _no_ , we didn’t. You think all this is an elaborate acting gig?” Jaskier answers easily. “And you think I could persuade Geralt to do such a thing? Hell, I’m still surprised he lets me tag along, truth be told. And then, does that mean you’re questioning my sincerity? I can assure you that each and every story here stems from the absolute truth and nothing but the truth.” Sure, he might have tweaked it a little at the beginning, but the point still stands.

While he talks, more and more people enter the stream. Briefly, he wonders if he should recap what he’s doing, but he guesses it’ll become quite clear as he carries on answering questions. As it turns out, there’s even people fangirling about him specifically and now _that_ is quite nice.

“ _Isn’t it scary, being so close to a Witcher_?” He reads out loud. Now that’s an interesting question. 

“I-- No, to be honest.” Jaskier starts. “I mean, as far as I remember, I’ve never even been scared of Geralt, period. Sure, you’re constantly reminded of just how powerful and dangerous he is, but the thing is-- being so close to him all the time also reminds you of how _good_ he is. I _know_ that Geralt would never hurt me and therefore, being close to him is the safest place I could be at. I mean, have you guys ever seen me injured? I’ve barely gotten a scratch ever since the djinn!” He adds cheerfully. It’s truly wondrous, that fact.

It’s weird, to be honest, how the words tumble out of his mouth without much thinking. When he records his vlogs, he’s always mulled over the choice of words beforehand, which way and order to recap what they have been through and which details to discard as a whole. Going into this completely unprepared has caused his anxiety levels to spike up in a way that almost made him drop the idea as a whole. But then again, he’s always been good at improvising and… well, they really do need some spare money in their joint pocket.

The answers come easily to him, too. Talking about Geralt is precisely what he excels at and he’s _always_ loved correcting people’s opinions. It’s a match made in heaven, honestly.

Someone else asks how they can be reached in case of emergency, one person wants to know how they’re travelling (which leads to Jaskier rasping a whole ode to Roach - fully boasting with the fact that he is allowed to actually sit on her during their drives now), and someone else asks what he’s done with his life before he’s met Geralt. 

In that way Jaskier moves through the questions, every once in a while reminding people to donate to them. He starts to laugh when a few people get more than excited about him “saying the sentence, oh my gods!!!” They actually got fans, he realizes now.

The questions vary between being more about specific events or asking for general information. It’s a good mix, one that he could’ve only hoped for, and they never truly breech into their privacy completely. 

“ _Is it true that Witchers are no humans_?” Someone inquires. 

Jaskier wipes a hand over his face. Maybe he shouldn’t have been happy too early on, because, truth be told, this question? It’s a dangerous one. This is where people’s opinions come from and where they can be changed. The thing is, however, that he doesn’t _know_. He’s never asked Geralt about it - and not just because it seems like an impolite thing to ask, but also because it does not matter. It doesn’t matter if Geralt is any kind of wild creature as long as he doesn’t behave this way, as long as Jaskier knows that he can turn around at any point and find Geralt’s attentive eyes fixed on him in curiosity.

He draws in a deep breath before starting his answer. “I know that during one of the last vlogs I said something about how Geralt is a _friend_ of humanity, but that’s not right. The guy _is_ humanity personified.” He’s aware that it doesn’t exactly answer the question, but it’s what he’s thought in reply. And why not go with that? “Now, I am aware that in general Witcher’s aren’t seen as humans, period— but _Geralt_? Like, have you ever _seen_ him talk to those so called ‘monsters’? Or a kid? He doesn’t harm anything or anyone if he doesn’t have to. He’s a protector, not a slayer.” 

There’s been a method to Jaskier’s answering of these questions that has worked well so far. Now, however, he realizes that starting to read a question out loud before taking a look at it beforehand kinda dooms you to go through with it. He wishes it wasn’t the case, but here he is.

“ _Sounds like you’re in love with him,_ ” he reads out, only realizing what it _means_ afterwards.

Instantly and out of reflex, he goes, “I’m not—“ but before he finishes, it’s like all his interactions with Geralt get repeated before his inner eye. The way his heart soars at any sound of appreciation coming from Geralt, whether it’s a snort, a hum or a chuckle and how nice it feels that it’s directed at _him_. How he melts against Geralt’s chest when they’re sitting on Roach, claiming that it’s just so that he won’t fall, when in truth he inhales Geralt’s scent with every movement. He thinks of the way he can’t fall asleep before Geralt’s climbed into bed as well, his shoulder close to Jaskier’s own as he gets comfortable and pulls the blanket up over the two of them. He thinks of the way Geralt’s eyes shine and how he can go from looking feral to being his most classy self, all in the matter of a few seconds, and how his sight always warms Jaskier’s heart, no matter what. 

Jaskier stares at the corner of the room for a moment, thinking about all this. “Holy shit. Am I in love with Geralt?” He whispers to himself. Shouldn’t he have noticed before? Like, those would be _his_ feelings, right? He should be the one seeing them and not some stranger on the internet with their assumptions and-- Honestly, he doesn’t know what to think but he feels hot all over suddenly.

Knowing that it must be visible - those elven phones have their own magic to them and a feature of that definitely is a high-quality camera - he decides to stop this madness now. “Okay, fuck, I need to go lie down and have an existential crisis over this,” he announces, already searching for where to leave the chat. And he plans to do just that, hide away from the world and just… He doesn’t even know what. “Goodbye and, you know, the usual, toss a coffee, et cetera—“


	5. FAIL: Turns Out The Witcher Knows What The Internet Is

_“Okay, you guys have gotten me into the worst fucking possible situation, you know that? And I’m not talking in the level of ‘Oh, a djinn tried to kill me’ or anything like that, but the_ actual _worst fucking thing_ possible _and it’s_ horrible _\--”_

-

Jaskier is fucked. Sadly not the fun kind. He _wishes_ it were the fun kind, particularly by one specific person because then all his dreams would come true and he could finally stop being nervous all the time, especially when Geralt is close like this. Because they’re lying in bed, back to back, like usual, and he _wishes_ it were different for once or that he could at least stop thinking about this and fall _asleep_.

It’s no surprise the Witcher had been so cranky when he was suffering from insomnia all that time ago. 

It’s been a few days since the big Q&A fiasko, a time in which Jaskier has avoided his phone as well as possible. He supposes that he could have handled the situation better than he actually has, but then again he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the realization riding across his horizon. It _has_ ended with him lying spread out on the bed, looking at the ceiling, for what must have been hours, mulling over that comment. 

_Sounds like you’re in love with him_.

Jaskier has _never_ before been in love with anyone, so what would he know? Sure, he has his fair experience, but that’s always been of a more aesthetic or sensual nature than _love_. He knows to appreciate pretty people and good lays and well, up to now he’d put Geralt into those categories. Not that he can be sure about the second part, but it’s heavily implied by just about _anything_ about the guy. So, yeah, Jaskier’s known that he’s been attracted to the Witcher, but then again, who with two working eyes isn’t? 

But as he’s replayed everything - both figuratively and literally, seeing as he’s spent a long time rewatching his own vlogs - he’s come to a single conclusion: There are feelings in the mix. They’re in plain sight and how Jaskier has been blind to them is beyond him, truly, because they’re so _obvious_. 

He’s just glad that Geralt doesn’t read emotions well in general, because this could’ve gotten ugly.

Which is why it hasn’t gone over well when Geralt came back to the motel that night either. He’s brought some fresh clothes for Jaskier along, with some meat stew from who-knows-where, and he couldn’t help but yelp at the sudden entrance. He doesn’t know how Geralt managed to get any of this and he almost fell into a panic attack when he noticed how heavily his heart beat as he accepted the dress shirts Geralt handed over without any comment.

 _Fuck_.

So yes, that was the beginning of the end. After his confirmation of that assumption, Jaskier has gotten even more jumpy around Geralt than he has been ever before. Which is quite awkward, because so far he’d proven himself to be quite resistant to the glares and grunts the Witcher regularly throws his way. Now, he just blushes at them and has to hide his face quickly.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says now into the darkness. His voice sounds quite awake, actually, as if he hadn’t slept yet at all. “What are you _doing_.”

“Sorry,” Jaskier yelps. Damn, he hadn’t expected Geralt to still be awake. Had he even really shifted where he’s been lying? He’d tried to stay as still as possible. “Can’t sleep.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jaskier shakes his head. Well, nothing he can tell him, to say the least. “I think I’ll just… go down to the lobby and grab something to eat.” They have some spare money from the time Geralt has taken down a werewolf last week, so that won’t be too heavy on them, even if hotel food is the most expensive.

“Are you certain?” Geralt wants to know. He turns around, his eyes finding Jaskier’s. Even in the darkness they’re impossibly bright and pretty. 

“Y-Yes,” he says. “You should go back to sleep.”

Geralt snorts lightly. “Because letting you roam around unprotected is such a great idea,” he says. Jaskier can’t do anything but watch him as he pushes away the blanket and moves to get up. “I swear, you’re radiating something that attracts monsters.”

Jaskier bits his lip before he can say he’d much rather attract monster _hunters_. 

“We can go and get something proper to get you fed,” Geralt continues, almost as if he feels the need to talk more the less Jaskier does so. It’s weird as hell. “Will be cheaper that way.”

Jaskier sighs. Unable to argue, he climbs out of the bed and picks his clothes from where he’d put them down on the table earlier. 

He’s _so_ fucked.

-

“You should go home,” Geralt says after a while they’ve spent seated across one another in silence.

Jaskier’s been working on his notes of their latest contract, rewriting the part about the sirens Geralt’s shaken off without much hassle. It’s been a while since he’d last updated, but in the end their poverty wins over his embarrassment about the the live chat. He’s figured it’s best to simply ignore… everything, really, and get on with working. 

Which doesn’t mean it makes it any easier when Geralt’s eyes rest on him as he tries to concentrate on his words. In fact, if only makes him more and more nervous, guaranteeing that he needs to rewrite his texts more frequently. It’s a vicious cycle, honestly, because then it takes so much more time.

Stopping in his movements, Jaskier looks up at him with a frown. They’re at the bar of the hotel they’re currently staying at - in a room with two beds, on Jaskier’s insistence. He couldn’t fault Geralt for looking a bit taken aback at that, given that it’s not exactly in their position to request anything special - so this is as close to home as he can get at the moment. “What?”

Geralt just grunts in reply, as if that’s answer enough. Hell, it doesn’t explain anything at all, especially with the way he pointedly looks away from Jaskier now.

“No, seriously. What do you mean, ‘go home’?” Jaskier wants to know. He locks his phone and puts it down on the table. “I’m here.”

Geralt’s eyes have followed his movement. He looks at the phone with a rather grim expression. “You shouldn’t be,” he declares and pushes himself up from his seat. Without so much as a look back, he stalks off.

Jaskier’s no stranger to scrambling after the Witcher, but he can tell that something’s different than usually. Geralt’s steps have a determined stride to them that he usually only does when there’s a monster nearby and-- well, there’s never been one that he hasn’t informed Jaskier about, so it can’t be that. Still, he has to _jog_ after Geralt to keep up with him.

“Fuck, Geralt, what’s wrong?” He asks. Then, recognizing what the Witcher has been doing - sending him off, leaving him behind - he realizes that he’s _pissed_. “Shit, is it something I did?” He’s tried to act naturally after the first few days of awkwardness where he’d very much have preferred to light himself on fire, to be honest. He’s resumed his chatter around Geralt and kept the conversations going like they’d been before; him talking and Geralt humming. He’d really thought he was able to hide it well.

Geralt doesn’t reply. Instead, he pushes their room’s door open, barely leaving enough time for Jaskier to slip inside after him when he pushes it closed again. There’s a force about him that Jaskier’s only ever seen directed at rude men who’d stepped up too close to either of them.

“Geralt, please,” Jaskier pushes. He needs to know if he fucked up, if he’s the one who ruined their partnership - he can’t describe why he needs to _hear_ it when it’s so obvious, why he needs to heave Geralt say that he hates him now, because all it will bring is a broken heart and nothing more, but he _needs_ it, period. Without thinking, he reaches for Geralt’s wrist, stopping his stomping off. “ _Talk to me_.”

The Witcher stills at the touch. He lets Jaskier pull at his arm and turns around, moving along. His eyes look tired even as they’re wide when they meet Jaskier’s. He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’ve seen the texts,” he says calmly, gesturing at the phone in Jaskier’s free hand with his own.

“Wha--” Jaskier starts, confused. But before he can form his question, he already has the answer: the many text messages that he’s still flooded with today, asking for information about _that_ development. When exactly people stopped caring about the monster hunting and got more focused on his love life is beyond him, but that’s what’s happening. Everyday people send e-mails and ask if he’s admitted his feelings yet, if they’re dating now, is Geralt even interested in men… It’s the main reason why there’s been entire days where he’s left his phone in his pocket.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” Geralt assures him. He looks a little sheepish, if that’s a word you could ever relate to the Witcher. “I just wanted to look up a location I’d heard about while you were sleeping and-- there it was.”

Geralt’s been on his phone. 

Geralt knows how to _use_ a phone.

For a moment, Jaskier’s completely dumbfounded, opening and closing his mouth as he searches for anything to say. Suddenly it all makes sense. Geralt didn’t have to read it in _him_ when he had _literally_ done so on his _phone_. For how long has he known? Has it been weeks, weeks where Jaskier had tried to act like before and must have seemed more than creepy to him? “Wait, I can explain--”

His hold of Geralt’s arm has weakened so much that the Witcher doesn’t even have to shove him away. “You should be with the one you love, Jaskier,” he decides, turning away towards the bed.

Helplessly, Jaskier watches as he begins to pack his bags. There’s a burn in his throat as he blinks away tears, stinging as much as the djinn’s curse had done, if not even more. It takes a moment until he’s processed Geralt’s words. _With the one you love_. “But I--” It doesn’t make sense. He’s here, he’s with Geralt, so why should he go somewhere else then? “What are you _talking_ about?”

Geralt clicks his tongue. “I’ve _seen_ the texts,” he repeats. His voice sounds borderline furious now, but it’s not reaching his face when he turns around again to look at Jaskier. “‘ _Tell him how you feel_ ’, ‘ _get your man_ ’ - it’s time that you go and do just that.”

And suddenly it all falls into place. Geralt didn’t understand _anything_. He’s seen messages that talk about _him_ but missed that point entirely. _Fuck_ , he thinks he’s playing matchmaker by sending Jaskier away. He honestly has to bite back a laughter. It’s too absurd. “You-- you think I have a boyfriend waiting.”

Geralt grunts, already having resumed to packing. 

Now Jaskier breaks out of his stupor. He doesn’t know just what is causing it - he’s got an opening to never having to admit his feelings to Geralt, but the he’d have to leave him, too. “Geralt, I’ve been with you for _months_ ,” he states carefully. “ _When_ should I have met this mysterious stranger?”

“Before.”

“You _know_ I didn’t have any friends,” Jaskier reminds him. He steps up to Geralt’s side, staring at this beautiful, stupid man. “ _Nobody_ I cared for.”

He catches Geralt stopping for the briefest of moments, a halt that’s over as quickly as it came, but the slight frown stays in place. Jaskier can practically hear him thinking.

Something cuts short inside him, and he decided to help with that. “I-- Fuck, Geralt, those texts were about _you_.”

At that, Geralt lifts his head. “What? No.” It’s not refusal in his voice, not like Jaskier has expected, but utter disbelief.

“ _Yes_.”

He watches as a shirt falls from Geralt’s hand. He doesn’t drop or throw it, like he usually does. It _falls_ , as if he’s lost control over movements in surprise.

The same must go for Jaskier because he does something incredibly stupid then. He reaches for Geralt’s hand this time, not his arm, and starts, “Geralt, I--”

But he doesn’t get to finish, because Geralt pulls at him then, with a force that has Jaskier yelping, crashing their mouths together.

-

_“So, long story short, I am now_ dating _the Witcher. Talk about a development. And yes, thank you all. This channel will stay focused on the adventures, though, so keep your curious noses to yourself. I_ will _say, however, that there_ is _something inhuman about Geralt, but fear not, for it is not_ bad _at all--”_

 _“_ Jaskier! _”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is a wrap! Thank you for accompanying me on my first steps into this fandom <3

**Author's Note:**

>  **Please leave a comment!**  
>  If you liked this, come check out my [tumblr](http://joanthangroff.tumblr.com) or talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/Ll4MDUNBAR).


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